


Treasured

by katykrash



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Gen, OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katykrash/pseuds/katykrash
Summary: Some 25 years ago she had taken the old snapshot to a conservator and had it specially mounted and framed.





	Treasured

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sea_spirit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_spirit/gifts), [ikkiM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/gifts).



> The prompt was photobomb/photobombing. Thanks to Sea_Spirit for betaing this many moons ago and for being my dear friend, and thanks to IkkiM for asking for it. Q. for her input, as well.
> 
> Dedicated to my grandparents and my dad.

_My most treasured possession, this yellowed square,_ Jo smiled fondly.

Some 25 years ago she had taken the old snapshot to a conservator and had it specially mounted and framed. That treatment still felt cold to her, though she knew it was the best way to keep the photo safe.

Even then the little talisman had been worryingly brittle, slightly tattered along the right edge and dog-eared at the lower left corner. The edge had been tucked into the frame of the mirror on her parents’ tall bureau seemingly forever, until they’d passed away within days of each other and she’d taken it down for good. Almost 30 years ago now.

The folded corner was Jo’s own fault, from when she was around four years old. She’d dragged the chair from Mom’s dressing table over to the bureau to get a closer look at the glamorous, somewhat familiar-looking couple. She’d lost her footing and ended up in a wailing heap on the floor. Her dad had rushed in at the sound.

Now ensconced in the embrace of her husband’s battered old recliner, her favorite throw warming her shoulders, she closed her eyes and remembered. _How safe it always felt to be wrapped in Daddy’s strong arms._ She could feel herself tucking her head under his chin; she could smell the Bay Rum on his scruffy neck _._

At the sound of tires on gravel Jo turned her lined and freckled face toward the living room window. _Back already._ She returned her gaze to the image in her lap, though it was perfectly rendered in her mind’s eye.

_Mom in her smart navy-blue WAVE uniform, hat knocked to the pavement near her oxford-clad feet, white-blonde hair coming loose from its roll at her neck, leaning back a bit as Dad, in civvies, was planting a whopper of a kiss on her widely grinning lips, his wrist on her hip and his remaining hand caressing the back of her head. His unbelievably handsome face, tanned and with delighted eyes crinkled at the corners; Mom’s white-gloved fingertips caressing his jaw, her other hand unseen behind him. Reuniting after a few months apart, Mom having been on active duty and Dad recuperating, the joy of spring and V-E Day all around them._

“Hey, Gran,” Maggie hollered from the open front door as she made her way to the kitchen to set down the groceries. “I got some of that hipster bone-broth at the market, thought you might like it.”

Jo rolled her eyes and mock-gagged while her granddaughter was still in the other room and couldn’t see. She was glad for the newly divorced woman’s care and company, truly, and especially now that her beloved Will was gone, but she hated to be fussed over. _I got that from them, too—sure as the blonde hair, height, and inconvenient sense of decency,_  she thought wryly.

She heard Mags enter the room and run a hand over the coverlet on the hospital bed just behind her, but Jo didn’t turn, not wanting to acknowledge the monstrous contraption nor the side table with its squadron of amber vials. _Fuck cancer,_  said her mom’s voice, and Jo grinned.

“Oh, the picture! Hi, guys,” Maggie greeted her great-grandparents and kissed the wispy hairs remaining on Jo’s head. “But Gran, you shouldn’t have gotten that down. You could’ve waited and asked me for help—you know how your balance is!”

“I was just thinking on that, funnily enough,” she rasped. “See that little fold mark? Happened when I landed on it when I was a little girl.”

“What’s up with the huge ginger photobomber? He’s definitely giving great-Granddad the stink eye,” Maggie said, pointing at a figure in Army uniform who was indeed looking daggers at her ancestor.

Jo’s chuckle devolved into a cough, and Maggie gently patted her on the back until she caught her breath again. “Y’know, Mags, I never could get them to tell me! Mom’d roll her eyes and get this set to her jaw, and Dad’d just laugh and laugh and look mighty pleased with himself—well, more than usual, anyway. Mom’s best friend Podrick took the photo, but he’d long since passed in a car accident by the time I thought to ask any of them about that guy.”

 _Uncle Pod_ , she then thought wistfully, suddenly remembering bouncing along on the dark-haired man’s huge shoulders while he made monkey sounds. _At the old zoo,_  the sun on her face and the twinned scents of candyfloss and popcorn.

“Must’ve been a rival suitor or something,” Maggie’s observation brought her back to the present. “Although, why that fool thought he had a chance, I can’t imagine—those two are so in love my heart clutches every time I look at that. M’kay, I need to go change into my slippers.” The younger woman padded down the hall. “These shoes looked cute in the store, but man, the blisters are killing me...” 

Jo touched the glass above the pair. _See you soon, Mom and Dad. And Will and Pod_ , she promised, closing her eyes for a nap. _Soon._

 


End file.
